


When SPN meets MJN

by tangerine (arte)



Category: Cabin Pressure, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Crack, Crossover, Gen, mockumentary au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-29
Updated: 2015-01-29
Packaged: 2018-03-09 09:29:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3244619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arte/pseuds/tangerine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rob, Rich, Mish and Matt on MJN air. Considering that two out of four of them are terrified of flying, perhaps they should have chosen another airline.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When SPN meets MJN

**Author's Note:**

> Although there will be some change, most of the Spn actors' characteristic would be drawn from the Mockumentary verse, so brace yourself for jerkiness.

This story begins with two men sitting at a breakfast bar in a hotel, munching bagels. The one with blond hair and hazel eyes is called Rich. Say hello to Rich.

"Robbie, something wrong?" Rich asks, his cheek all puffed up with semi-chewed food. Fifteen minutes ago, his friend has paled dramatically as he saw something on his phone. And then the guy pat himself down, mumbled incoherently, swiveled around, and jabbed at the phone like his life depended on it. Rich has waited for the frantic act to taper off, but since it hasn't, he needs to prod. He's getting worried for his friend.

The said friend is Rob, curly dark hair and blue eyes. Say hello to Rob as well. Don't be insulted if he doesn't return it. He's kind of distracted. Even his bagel is abandoned now.

"I don't know, Rich. Is something wrong? Is something wrong?" Rob says hysterically. With shaky hand, he passes his phone to the bagel enthusiast. "Tell me I'm wrong."

"Wrong about what?" Rich swallows and stares at the screen with squinted eyes. It's a confirmation page for the four plane tickets Rob booked.

"The hour, can you check the hour?"

"Departure time? Sure, it's-" Rich stops. "Wait a sec, didn't you say that it's gonna leave at 6 o'clock in the evening? Why does it say eight a.m.?"

"Oh, God," Rob covers his face. "I think I screwed up."

"You saw 8:00 as 18:00, didn't you."

"I though it was a nick in my lap top screen! You know how it is!"

"You didn't, perchance, scroll down or anything? Print them out?"

"I don't know, Rich! I'm usually far more careful than this, I don't know why I wasn't. You know how careful I am!"

"Yeah, I know," nods Rich, arms raised to placate his friend. It is a well known fact that Rob is a meticulous planner, which is why he got into the role of booking the tickets in the first place. "Well, I guess shit happens. Money's waste, but we can always get another tickets."

"That's the thing," Rob says miserably. "I already checked. It's all out. At best, we're gonna arrive at the last day of convention."

Rich is silent for a moment.

Blankly, he says, "We're gonna get killed, aren't we?"

"Who's planning for your murder?" comes a new voice. Startled, Rob whips his head around.

There stands blue eyed man, happily munching on a bagel. A very familiar looking bagel with a hint of whitr cream cheese on top of it.

Rob looks down at his empty plate, up at the thief's face, and down again. He opens his mouth to protest, but as the thief has rapidly eaten away the evidence of his crime, there's noting more to be done for the poor piece of carbohydrates.

That is Mish, the bagel theif. He has his loot on one hand and a cup of coffee on the other. Say hello to Mish at your own risk. It should be noted that he absolutely didn't ruffle his hair for the morning selfie.

"That was mean," Rich comments. His words come out muffled as he has shoved all of his breakfast into his mouth when he saw Mish sneaking from behind.

Rob shoots him a look of betrayal. "Thanks for your staunch defense over _my_ food, Rich."

"You're welcome, Rob."

"Now, children," says the new, new voice. "Don't squabble over food. There're more."

Indeed, there are. A plate full of bagels is set down on the table. The bagel giver is named Matt. All hail Matt. Rob looks at the man's gorgeous face as if he's the one savior left in this cruel world.

"You're the best, Matt."

"True, true," agrees Mish as he grabs another bagel and spreads cream cheese over it. He sprawls over the seat in front of Rob. "So what is this murder I hear of?"

"Who's dying?" Matt asks as well, sitting next to Mish.

"Well, uh," Rob gestures vaguely, not knowing how to get the words out. He shoots a panicked look at Rich, but it's not like Rich has any solution. Fast confession is the only way to go.

"Our plane tickets are bust," Rich summarizes the situation on his friend's behalf. "There was some mistake, and basically, we're not going anywhere near Vancouver until the last day of the convention."

Mish blinks. "Well, thank you for notifying me about my own death so soon," he sips his coffee with a thoughtful expression. "You know, if this gets in the way of Jared's beauty sleep, he's gonna personally hunt down the culprit resonsible for it."

"Oh, God," Rob squeaks, hands on his heart. The image is truly frightening.

"Uh-oh," Matt says. "Aren't you schedule to be on set next week?"

Jared and his impossibly big arms haunt Rob's vision. He can practically see himself being picked up and being shaked like a doll.

"Rich!" Rob clutches at his friend's arm desperately. "Help me!"

"How?"

"Take a fall for me?" Rob does his best puppy eyes. Rich looks conflicted for a second, but shakes his head.

"Sorry, man. Can't risk that while Gabriel's still alive. Jared has this intricate tic for tac system, and once you tic, he never forgets to tac. Of course, he only tacs once, but that tac is kinda-"

"Big," Mish finishes, recalling his intense trial and error period. There is a solemn round of nods from the table. Rob looks around in despair.

"Hey, you're the bless you guy!"

The silence is shattered by a peppy British voice.

Mish, who is at the receiving end of the finger excitiedly pointing at his person, goes,

"Excuse me?"

The happy blond guy doesn't seem to be listening. "It's brilliant! I never thought I would run into you like this. You look just like that picture. Can I get a hug?"

The habit formed from years of interacting with the fans makes Mish nod along before he can think much about it.

"Alright, so, care to explain what you were talking about?" Mish asks again as he pulls out of the hug.

"Oh, you know, the bless you thing! I really like dressing up as a zombie. And making pasta with a jam sauce."

A light bulb moment happens. "Oh! Were you in GISHWHES this year?"

"Yes, that's it! How do you remember the exact name?" the man cries excitiedly. "I always mess up, so I just call it bless you."

"It's oddly fitting," Mish acknowledges, absently wondering if he could convert this piece of information into a new GISHWHES item.

"Wow, you look really upset," says the man, his attention suddenly focused on Rob. "Can I help you?"

"Me?" Rob's eyes are wide. "Oh, no, no, thank you, but I'm-"

"No, really, I want to help. What is it?"

"Seriously, it's not-"

"Do you need more coffee? 'Cause I can make a good cup of coffee! That's the one thing I can do!"

"No, no!" Rob hastily raises his hand as it appears the man would truly skip toward the coffee machine to fetch him some coffee. "It's just some plane problem, nothing you can do."

"What kind of problem?" the man asks. "Maybe mom can do something."

"Your mom?" Rich raises his brow.

"Yeah," the man nods. "She's the CEO of the MJN air."

The four actors look at each other.

"Well, Mish," says Rich. "I guess the fiasco you caused is finally good for something."

Mish preens. "You're welcome."

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently, Richard Speight Jr. shouldn't have said something like, 'This is Rich, he's afraid of flying. And this is Rob. He's afraid of everything else.' It gave me ideas. I don't even know what I'm writing. Feedbacks would be wonderful x)


End file.
